


The Invitation

by The_Bentley



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-07
Updated: 2019-06-07
Packaged: 2020-04-12 09:41:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,574
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19129474
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Bentley/pseuds/The_Bentley
Summary: “You’re inviting me to your place?”“Yes.”“Seriously?”“Of course I’m serious.  Why do you think I’m joking?”Crowley asks Aziraphale over to his flat for the first time ever.





	The Invitation

**Author's Note:**

> Is this a date? Or just a couple of best friends getting together? I'll leave that for you to decide. :)

“We’re closed,” said Aziraphale into the handset using his most pleasant tone before going to hang it up.

“Angel!  Wait!  It’s me.”

“What do you want, Crowley?  I was just about to make a cup of tea and settle down for the evening.” 

“Want to come over?”

Aziraphale opened his mouth then paused before replying.  He was pretty sure he had never been over to Crowley’s flat.  It was Crowley who always invaded his bookshop, sometimes barging in unannounced to make an absolute pest of himself until Aziraphale gave in and closed it so they could retire to the backroom for drinks. 

“You’re inviting me to your place?”

“Yes.”

“Seriously?”

“Of course I’m serious.  Why do you think I’m joking?” replied Crowley in a slightly agitated tone.  “I have a new theatre system.  I might as well enjoy it with someone.”

 “I will come if you pick me up and we can get some takeout.  I’m feeling a bit hungry.  My treat.”

“You’re going to make me waste petrol on takeout?  Why can’t we just have something delivered?”

“I know very well you don’t buy petrol.  A little side trip won’t wear out your tyres.  And a few more miles won’t add to the wear and tear on that beast.  You wouldn’t allow such a thing,” said Aziraphale tartly.  “When can I expect you?”

“Give me half an hour; I’m just finishing up a few things here with the system.  Just know where you want to go get food, ok?”

“No problem.  See you in a bit.”  Aziraphale hung up the phone before returning to leafing through book catalogues for new finds. 

It wasn’t long before Crowley swaggered into the bookshop through the locked door he opened with a snap of his fingers.  Aziraphale looked over his shoulder from the bookshelf where he was organizing Oscar Wilde first editions,  his brow furrowed and his mouth turned down in that slight frown he got whenever Crowley’s antics were starting to irritate him.  He slid one last rare book into place as he admonished Crowley, although his efforts were probably useless.

“I’m hoping one of these days you decide the polite thing to do would be to knock first before charging in.”

“Why bother?”  Crowley collapsed into his favourite chair over by the window where it got a bit of sun for about an hour each day in the afternoon.  “It’s not like you didn’t know it was me.  Are you ready?”

Aziraphale dusted off his hands on his trousers.  “Yes, I am.  I was just keeping myself busy while I waited for you.  How about sushi?”

Crowley shrugged in that noncommittal way of his.  “I could go for sushi.  I guess that means some sake to go with it.  Let’s go.”

A short drive later, the Bentley idled at the curb while Aziraphale dithered in the restaurant deciding what to get.  Crowley had stayed in the car, a CD of Vivaldi playing – it was just easier than trying to explain yet again why Queen and The Velvet Underground were not “bebop.”  He told the angel to get whatever he wanted in sushi.  If he didn’t like it, it wasn’t too difficult to change it to something he did.  Maybe it wouldn’t even be sushi anymore.  But right now he wasn’t too worried about what kind of food the two of them shared this evening.  He wasn’t the least bit peckish as he was too excited about the chance to show off his newest addition to his growing collection of state-of-the-art technology.

Too long had passed in Crowley’s opinion as Aziraphale collected the sushi.  Vivaldi was getting boring, but he wasn’t interested in Queen.  Nothing on the radio appealed to him, either.  He idly stared out at the street before him wondering if messing with the timing of the traffic lights up ahead would provide some quick entertainment.   Luckily Aziraphale returned with sushi and sake in hand before Crowley became impatient enough to as much as lay on the horn.  He clambered into his seat, careful to put his purchases in the back on the floor where they would hopefully not fall victim to Crowley’s driving. 

The demon looked at him with eyebrows raised above his designer sunglasses.  “Got everything?”

“I believe so.”  Aziraphale covertly grasped the sides of his seat, prepared for yet another manic trip in the Bentley. 

“Don’t think I didn’t see that,” muttered Crowley as he pulled away from the curb, defying physics to drive the Bentley between a couple of slower moving vehicles while Aziraphale sucked in his breath in, expecting a collision.

He guiltily clasped his hands in his lap for the rest of the trip back to Crowley’s flat, despite wanting to go back to clutching on to something for dear life.  Instead he screwed his eyes shut and resisted the urge to pray, hoping Crowley was too busy yelling at pedestrians to notice.  Aziraphale was completely convinced the demon’s driving was going to get them both discorporated one of these days.

At last, Aziraphale’s nightmarish ride was over as they pulled up in front of Crowley’s usual prime parking spot in front of his building, which was open like it always was whenever the Bentley didn’t happen to be occupying it.  Aziraphale considered that to be cheating, but there was no reasoning with the demon over it.  Crowley liked his little conveniences.  Of course, so did Aziraphale, but he was blind to his own faults at times.

“You never invite anyone over so why are you wanting me to come over now?”  Aziraphale asked, curious about Crowley’s motives.

They exited the Bentley, heading for the door to the ultra-modern building that housed Crowley’s ultra-modern flat.  Aziraphale expected it to be very clean and very full of the most technologically advanced of modern conveniences.  He would soon find he was not disappointed.

“Angel, we almost lost everything several months ago, including our own lives if we hadn’t have interpreted that last prophecy of that witch correctly.  Maybe it’s time I showed you I do appreciate you as my best friend, ok?”  Crowley pushed the button and the lift opened.  “Besides, like I said, I want to show off my new theatre system to someone.  I don’t have many options, you know, since I don’t bother with human friendships anymore.”

Being immortal and befriending mortals was a lot like humans befriending butterflies, if that was a possibility – a lot of effort for a very short-lived reward.

Aziraphale smiled a small, beatific smile.  He could feel Crowley rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses and gave him a puzzled look.  “What?”

The elevator’s smoked glass door slid silently open and they exited on Crowley’s floor.  He stalked down the sterile hall, opening his front door with a wave of his hand.  With a gesture, he invited Aziraphale inside.

“Don’t get any ideas.  I’m inviting a friend over to watch a film.  If you think there’s anything more to this, then you can just walk yourself back to that blasted bookshop of yours, ok?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ok.  You can put that stuff on the kitchen counter there.” 

Aziraphale set his purchases on the pristine white granite countertop separating the lounge from the kitchen itself.  He was right about the modern conveniences.  Crowley’s high-end stove would be the envy of professional chefs everywhere and his stainless steel fridge had an internet connection, even though it would never have the need to email him to say that he was almost out of milk.  Neither looked particularly used.

It was then he turned to notice the verdant, lush jungle that almost took over the entire lounge.  His mouth formed a silent “oh,” as he walked over to caress a leaf or two of a particularly excellent specimen of _dracaena fragrans_ cooing over how lovely it was.  Crowley let out the most irritated sigh, wondering if he totally did the wrong thing bringing Aziraphale over here so he could apparently improve the self-esteem of his houseplants.

“Don’t.  Just don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t praise them!  If you improve morale, they’re just going to get uppity and I’ll never be able to threaten them into growing the way they should again.  I like a plant that cowers properly.”

Aziraphale stepped away, defying Crowley secretly by sending silent praise in the houseplants’ direction.  “Ok.  I’ll leave them alone, I guess.  Now what?”

Crowley was in front of his modern steel and glass shelf perusing the neatly organized DVDs there.  “Hmmm . . . I don’t think you’ll like horror.  I find it funny, but I doubt you will . . .  That’s too violent for your tastes . . . Oh for the love of all, I thought I got rid of the porn Hell sent me when they wanted me to look into spreading lust.  Bleh.  No thanks.” 

A small section of cases disappeared as soon as Crowley fixed his glare on it. 

“Hell wanted you to spread lust?  Are you serious?”  Aziraphale looked scandalized.

“Yes.  I told them humans appear to be doing that just fine by themselves without my help.  Surprised I didn’t get punished for it, but they didn’t bring it up again.  I mean, do I look like an incubus?”  He turned to Aziraphale.  “Shall we check out Netflix?  Or Amazon Prime?  I have no clue what kind of films made in the last fifty years you’d actually like now that I think about it.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, either.   Got anything based on a book?  I’d probably like something like that.”

“Sure.” 

The extremely thin TV hanging on the wall turned on with a list of films appearing on the screen.  Crowley sat down on to his white leather couch, using his finger to swipe through the air like he was operating his mobile.  The films listed on the screen changed as he did so.  He paused after a moment, glancing over at Aziraphale, who still stood a bit awkwardly off to the side, feet sinking into the plush carpet. 

“Look those over, tell me if there’s one that interests you.”

Aziraphale squinted at them a moment, arms crossed, fingers tapping his coat sleeves as he perused the list.  “Hmmm.  Not many based on books, are there?”

The list changed.  Aziraphale looked it over, taking his time trying to decide between the two or three choices he had narrowed it down to.

“Any day now, angel.”

“Oh.  Yes.  I just want to make sure I’ll like it.”

“Just pick one.  It’s not like we can’t switch to another if you decide you hate it.”

Crowley got up to get plates, cups and other needed items from the kitchen, sending them floating across the room to the coffee table.  The bottle of sake, slightly chilled, in one hand and the bag of sushi swinging from the other, he returned to the lounge just as Aziraphale made his choice.  The demon gestured for him to sit as he started the film.

“What’s with all the cables there?”

“Connects up the system.  Just shut up and watch.  It’s the best home theatre system out there.  The picture and sound ought to be amazing.”

“They’re not connected to anything.”

“Don’t you have some sushi to eat?” Crowley retorted as the cables snaked themselves over to connect to their intended ports. 

“Oh yes.  I completely forgot about that,”  Aziraphale grabbed a plate and began to fill it with various and sundry varieties while the film’s cold open began.  “Would you like some, my dear?  The tuna’s particularly excellent.”

Crowley had leaned over to pick some up before slouching down in his usual manner at the other end of the couch, leaning casually against its arm.  Aziraphale sat primly a cushion away, picking delicately at his sushi as he watched the screen before them.  He seemed enthralled by his chosen film, watching carefully for the first half hour while Crowley sat there basking in the greatness that was the utterly awesome picture and sound coming from his new system.

“What do you think?  Great system, isn’t it?”  Crowley asked him about forty-five minutes into the film.

“Yes.  Yes, it is, but I’m not understanding the plot here.”

Crowley popped some sushi in his mouth in an attempt to keep some extremely rude comments to himself.   He swallowed it before saying, “You’ve read the book, so what do you mean you don’t understand?”

“She would have never hidden such information from him.  It’s not in her character.  She didn’t in the book and she shouldn’t have here.  It takes the whole plot in a totally different direction.”

Crowley just buried his head in his hands, muttering, “Should have watched _Hamlet_.  At least they don’t change the script in that.”

“Did you say something?”

“No.”

But the commentary from Aziraphale continued as the film progressed.  He sipped from his wine glass while critiquing every single difference from book to film.  Nothing escaped his sharp memory.    

“The flat John lived in didn’t _have_ a second bedroom.”

“Dear God, no.  She would have never said that.”

“The dog should be a bigger breed.”

“That happened _after_ he found out his mother had an affair and his father might not really be his father.”

Finally Crowley could take it no more and no amount of sake was going to dull his senses to the point that he didn’t care what came out of Aziraphale’s mouth or how often.  The TV unceremoniously turned itself off right before the climax.  He stood up, grabbed the angel’s hand, yanked him to his feet, dragging him to the front door. 

“Crowley!  It wasn’t even finished yet!”

“I don’t think films are your thing.  This was such a bad idea, so let’s do something else,” suggested the demon as he shoved the angel in the lift before pushing the button for the first floor.

“I don’t even know how it’s going to end!” replied Aziraphale in a bit of a vexed tone.  He stood there, hands on hips trying his best to look upset, but failing miserably.  He wasn’t the type to work up a deep anger over something as trivial as a film he was finding did not stand up to the great story in the book he read and loved.

“Not to your liking, obviously.  How about we hit a pub?  If I don’t get good and drunk here soon, I’m going to seriously consider committing acts I would not be proud of.”

Aziraphale’s blue eyes softened a bit, the annoyance draining out of them as quickly as it appeared.  “I’m sorry, my dear.  I ruined everything didn’t I?”

“S’ok.  It’s just not your thing.  But you do have to admit the system is grand,” Crowley grinned at him. 

“Oh yes, it’s a great entertainment system.  Maybe a little too modern for me, though,” admitted his companion as they exited the building to head towards the Bentley.  “May I suggest the pub?”

“Please do.”  Crowley opened the driver’s side door with a thought then climbed in. 

Settling himself in his seat, Aziraphale said, “There’s a new place just on Oxford that I keep hearing is great.  Shall we try it?”

As they drove off towards the suggested pub, Crowley answered, “Sure, but if you’re going to sit there complaining about every blessed thing in the place, you can manifest those wings and fly home.”

The angel laughed in reply.  “As long as they have a good scotch on hand, I’ll keep my criticisms to myself.” 


End file.
